Deadpool on Deadpool
by Captain Deadpool
Summary: Who is Deadpool? I shall attempt to answer that very common question, using Deadpool himself! Really, could I have done it any other way? Written in first person, Deadpool POV. Expect loose grammer and political incorrectness.


**Deadpool on Deadpool**

By

Captain Deadpool

_Disclaimer: All property related to Marvel and DC comics are Marvel and DC's respective property and I do not claim ownership in any way and make no profit from this work of fiction. Some of this is speculation based on comic books past and current, and is subject to being incorrect._

Dear reader, there are two very important things about me that might have slipped your attention, so prepare to be educated, schooled by the 'Pool, and downright learned by the time I'm through with you, maggots!

The first thing you should be privy to is that I'm not a nice guy. Oh, sure, I want to be a hero and everything, but it has nothing to do with my (nonexistent) gentle disposition and kind, virtuous soul (which may also be nonexistent, but that's a rant for another day).

Imagine this: you're a mercenary- it's what you do, it's who you are. Killing large groups of people or assassinating individuals is the side your bread is jammed on. Might I add that you look simply dashing in the process? Because I- I mean you, sorry- totally do. With me so far? Sweet.

So one day you're balancing your internal budget and realize that there's something terribly wrong with your life. You have a compulsive need to wear tight, form fitting red and black _uniforms_ (RESPECT THEM!) and have a face your mother could only love when she's drunk AND it's nearly impossible to get laid without providing copious amounts of monetary compensation. But worse than that, THE #%! MOTHER-#$%ERS YOU &#%$ING KILL DON'T HAVE ^#$%ing decency to stay in the #%&ING ground!

I think you can see why my street cred's been going to hell. No matter how good you are at what Wolverine used to do before he became a Saturday morning cartoon wuss, it's all about the "He said, she said bull#$%". In my case it's "I said I killed him/her, he/she says 'DIE WILSON!'"- ruining my credibility. To a merc, cred is worth more than gold.

Then I had an epiphany. First, I would get steal a thesaurus from a nearby book store to find a word I could use to replace 'idea' to make myself look smarter than I think I am. Then I'd become a hero!

Sure, I'd have to swallow my pride and get paid a _salary_ (it makes me twitch just thinking about it), but it's not like a nine-to-five job or anything. I'd barrow-without-asking a spaceship and fly into the flippin' **sun **before I'd do one of _those._ The benefits are decent and as a bonus, I wouldn't have to kill people! I might even get pity sex! Hey, when you've got a complexion like mine, you take what you can get.

Well, now I have a new problem: Unfortunately for moi, street cred matters to super-assholes, too. What's more, it ain't the kind I'm used to. In the world I've lived in since I was ten years old, you're valuable if you're willing to do things other Joes might not have the stomach for. If you don't believe anything else I've said, believe this: Before people started rising from the grave and my mental problems became a liability, I had quite the reputation for getting shit done.

The X-Men laughed at me. The Fantastic Four wouldn't even take me on as a super-emergency-last-resort member. I sent my résumé to the Avengers six months ago. I'm sure they were very impressed and will send my acceptance letter any day now.

The only teams I have a shot at joining are the Thunderbolts and X-Force, and they'd hire me to do the things I'm trying to avoid.

Me? Bitter? Perish the thought. If you don't, I'll stick a grenade up your ass. A live one.

My point is that lot's of dudes and dudettes do the right thing for the wrong reason. Why do they pick on me for it? Why do I have to be a good guy to do good things? They'd give #%^ing Sabretooth a shot before me, and he's killed small children for fun! And do they know what Wolverine does in his spare time? I do. It isn't very nice.

Alright, now for the second thing you should know about me: What I can do. Oh dear God, how people get confused about what I can do. I ain't gonna go into too much detail, trade secrets and all that jazz, but I've heard some pretty outrageous stuff.

Some say I've only got a healing factor. Some say I can lift a car over my head and have super speed. The truth is somewhere in the middle. I don't doubt guys that made me did have some plans for some upgrades, but by the time I got out of that cruel joke called of a "hospice" I wasn't in the mood to be tampered with anymore, so I guess we'll never know. You'll have to pardon my lack of curiosity.

Technically, yes, the H-Factor is all I got, but there are some side-effects that are like separate powers. Then there's the cancer. The funny thing is I'd die from either one if I didn't have the other. But that's not important now.

See, several things affect my lone superpower: My mood, my cancer, and my mind. Everyone's health is affected by their mood, but with me it's more noticeable. When I'm down, my regenerating becomes slower and I become thinner because my cancer starts gaining ground and begins eating me alive. When I'm happy (which means I'm doing things your mother wouldn't approve of) I bulk up and become stronger, faster, and probably smarter, too. FYI, I have to eat a lot to maintain that kind of figure. Body mass doesn't just pop out of nowhere, at least not for me.

Let's say I need a new arm- a common enough problem for someone in my line of work. The magical healing factor would then start to convert muscle and fat from the rest of my body and mold them into a new arm. So the price of one arm is making the rest of my body feeble (as opposed to my body BEFORE I had to heal).

But shocking some goon by punching them with an arm they didn't think was there? Priceless.

Do you guys know what cancer is? I'm about as far as you can get from being a doctor without being a straight-up assassin, but I can give you layman's version. In fact, that's the ONLY version I can give you.

A bunch of cells, the little guys that makes up your body, become cancer when they stop playing by the rules and multiply without stopping- sort of like illegal immigrants- until your body is clogged to hell and you just can't support them anymore. I have the bad stuff, the kind that spreads throughout your body. It's why I went to Department K, and they sent me to Weapon X. No, I didn't trust them, but I was beyond medical science at the time and I didn't want to die alone in a hospital somewhere.

Ironically, the cancer saved my life. I wish it hadn't, and quite a few people are with me there, but what can you do? You see, my powers, at their peak, are faster than Wolverine's. This ain't a brag, because my body produces new cells faster than old cells die. Unfortunately for me, by body then starts to starve for energy and the new cells begin to cannibalize each other and I become a puddle of human flesh. You can now add becoming a pile of goo along with laser beam eyes, teleporting, and adamantium claws to my ever growing list of superpowers.

Oh, and cancer cells are more sturdy than normal cells, and since they make up a good chunk of my body, I'm a bit more durable than your average bear.

Now onto my mind powers. I don't have telekinesis, telepathy, or any other kind of kinesis or path (being a psychopath doesn't count), but I can slow down and speed up my healing powers through will! It's like how Green Whatshisface makes funny shapes with that ring of his- it's all in the willpower. Have you ever seen me looking at where a severed appendage used to be and saying or thinking, "GROW! GROW!" That's why. And yes, if I really focus I can achieve superhuman strength and speed, but it takes a lot out of me and generally isn't worth the trouble. Maybe if I had some alternate source of energy, but . . . nah. Not worth the bother. If I want to punch holes in somebody, I'll shoot 'em.

You might be wondering, "Hey, why would he want to heal more slowly?" Why, there are several reasons, dear reader. What if I wanted to play dead, for instance? Oh, and remember how growing an arm or leg takes a lot of energy? Well, what if I need that juice for other things? So, I tell my handy dandy healing factor to wait up, and I can reattach my arm if I'm quick, or wait until there's a better time.

I don't advertise it much, but I'm pretty sure I've got super senses, too. I've never really had tests run, and besides, I don't need another reason for people to compare me to Wolverine.

And last, but not least, the name is Deadpool, not Wade Wilson. Wade Wilson is dead, one way or the other, and I just use his name so my checks don't bounce. A dead pool is a betting pool where you wager how someone's gonna kick the bucket. In the merry ol' hospice, we freaks and mutants passed the time by figuring the odds and betting with money we didn't have on who would survive this hell. They figured I had the best odds, and the name stuck.

Please note: My name is spelled Deadpool. Not Dead-Pool like Spider-Man. Not Dead Pool like Moon Knight. Deadpool. IT IS ONE FREAKIN' WORD DAMNIT! GET IT RIGHT!


End file.
